


alors tu dis que je suis une sainte

by lagaudiere



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-02-17
Packaged: 2018-05-21 05:14:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6039616
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lagaudiere/pseuds/lagaudiere
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Tell me something about her life, then," Brosca says. "I'll ask a question. Does the chant tell whether she was afraid?"</p>
            </blockquote>





	alors tu dis que je suis une sainte

Orzammar isn’t the same city it was when Brosca left, but somehow the chaos is no surprise. It was always below the surface, she thinks, and now it’s boiled over. It’s as if her absence has allowed the city to run wild, to change its fate, the same way Rica has. Brosca doesn’t approve.

Their accommodations in the royal palace aren’t suited for humans, and the white nightgown Leliana wears is too short for her and too wide, slipping down her shoulder. She twirls and giggles, showing it off.

“Look, warden. I’m wearing the clothes of your people.”

“You look lovely,” Brosca laughs as she pulls the ties out of her hair. After a moment she settles onto the bed, and Leliana, sensing as she always can a dark mood below the surface, sits beside her.

“Are you alright?”

“These sheets are so soft,” Brosca murmurs. Too soft, maybe. How can Rica sleep like this every night, with nothing solid beneath her?

“Will you tell me another story about Andraste?"

Leliana’s stories are always a comfort, back in camp. 

Leliana frowns a little too, then. “You know they are not just stories to me.”

“Tell me something more about her life, then,” Brosca says. “I’ll ask a question. Does the chant tell whether she was afraid?”

But Leliana’s frown only deepens. Instead of answering, she lies down and quirks at eyebrow at Brosca until she does too, looking towards her in confusion. Leliana runs a finger down her cheek, softly.

“The chant doesn’t tell us that,” Leliana finally says softly. “But I believe she was. What kind of hero wouldn’t be afraid?”

“I’m not a hero,” Brosca says quickly. It's too easy, with the image of Andraste in her mind, to feel the flames creeping towards her feet. 

Leliana smiles. “Do you think you know how Andraste felt?”

It should make her feel defensive, being compared to this human martyr in her own city. But she’s always loved Leliana’s stories. What, after all, have the ancestors ever done for her?

“I think so,” Brosca mutters, and instinctively she reaches for Leliana’s hand, long slender fingers immediately curling around hers in comfort. “How do you live with knowing how much is expected of you? That you’re the only one who can do it?”

“You carry it well,” Leliana says. “You must know you are a natural leader. When you speak, people listen. When you walk into the room, people watch.”

Maybe that’s true of Leliana, of their their companions so desperate for someone to lead them and the peasants on the surface looking for any leader to turn to. But here, in Orzammar, Brosca walks into a room and heads turn, but all they see is the brand on her face.

Leliana reads the expression on her face, as she always has; she laughs lightly. “You don’t believe me. One day, my love, you will have to see you are more than your humble beginnings.”

You’re wrong, Brosca wants to say. The streets of Orzammar made her into what she is, and no matter what the Grey Wardens try to change her into, she can’t be anything else. Darkspawn blood doesn’t burn out the ashes of Orzammar. 

In the morning, there will be a king to crown. In the morning, she will feel every eye in the city follow the mark on her face, knowing she doesn't belong here anymore than on the surface, knowing she never will. 

But for now Leliana looks at her with bright eyes that never seem afraid. Leliana believes that the Maker brought them together, Chantry sister and Orzammar street urchin, someone a human god’s eyes should never fall on. Leliana sees something divine in her. 

Brosca holds tight to her hand and almost believes.


End file.
